Posted 23 July 2011
A long-time reader wryly remarked recently that having to wait five months for an update to appear on my website had proven to be even more frustrating than when I had been offline. Couldn't I post more regularly, even if the entries were shorter?
In my reply I said that it had never been my intention to add much to the diary once I had restored the site. As far as I'm concerned my story has largely been told and in a sense my journey is complete. While I fully appreciate that many readers would like to hear more about my escapades, from my point of view I don't feel any great motivation to document my present activities because I think I would largely be repeating myself. That doesn't in any way mean that I'm somehow bored or dissatisfied with my current lifestyle – in fact it's quite the contrary and I don't think I have ever been as comfortable and content as I am today – but unless something novel or dramatic has happened to me then I simply don't feel inspired to sit down and write.
Several correspondents have requested that I add some more discussion on the emotional aspects of cuckolding and in particular how my husband has been able to psychologically cope with having a wife who is so unashamedly promiscuous and who goes to great lengths to remind her spouse of his inadequacy. However I have largely avoided becoming embroiled in philosophical discussions about my life and the treatment of Martin, and I don't think there's much more I have to contribute on this subject that hasn't already been said elsewhere within these pages. I think it should be fairly obvious by now that Martin and I have a very stable albeit highly unusual marriage and that my day-to-day activities are consciously designed to maximise our mutual pleasure.
In 2008 I wrote a short polemic at the beginning of the 'Feedback & Requests 2' post in which I vented my frustration at having to repeatedly address correspondence that questioned the morality of my conduct and lectured me on the dangers of psychologically pressuring my spouse so cruelly. When I restored my site in January I removed this brief diatribe because I felt it was far too jarring and would undermine a reader's enjoyment of the rest of that Feeback and Requests post. However there's one paragraph in that short rant that very much sums up my present marital situation, and I think it's worth me reproducing it here:
"Maybe I just haven't explained things well, but I don't really get how you can't comprehend the reality of our relationship. Martin endures jealousy, frustration and loneliness together with feelings of inferiority and shame, but he also knows full well that this is all part of the package of being a submissive cuckold. It's what he signed up for; it's what he wants. Those of you who think my husband will 'break' at some point don't get it at all. You completely fail to understand the submissive mind, and if anything Martin is a stronger and more satisfied individual than he was two and a half years ago because the threat of me leaving him has evaporated (and it was never there except in his mind). He doesn't ever want to turn the clock back - he adores having a slut wife. He revels in being married to an attractive woman who likes to dress up in fetish clothing and be fucked by big-cocked men. The jealousy and mental agony that goes with all that is something that feeds him, not destroys him. Call it warped if you like, but I'm sure he doesn't give a toss any more than I do."
The most satisfying aspect of this lifestyle from my perspective is that the enjoyment for me has never waned. I experience the same excitement when I dress in front of my husband in preparation for a liaison with another man as I did when I first cuckolded him, and I still get a shiver down my spine later in the evening when I hear Martin say 'hello' at the other end of the phone after I have called to tell him how fantastic the big, hard prick inside me feels and how wonderful it is to be fucked by someone who is so much more attractive than him. Nor when I arrive back home do I ever tire of removing the hard black rubber plug from my vagina and mounting my husband's face so that he can properly taste what a real man gives to me. If the magic hasn't lessened after over five years of playing these games, I think I can be pretty sure it never will.
For those of you who dream of having a wife who will treat you in this way, let me once again caution that such a relationship does carry a very high price for the cuckold. I am absolutely serious when I say that I now regard Martin as being a lesser, inferior male, and although I love him, enjoy his company, and very much respect his intellect and business acumen, I'm not got to pretend that the raw physical attraction I felt for him in the early days of our marriage exists any longer. Compare this with my boyfriend Matt who still makes me go weak at the knees when he opens his front door and smiles at me with those beautiful eyes, and the closeness and sense of completeness I feel these days when I'm lying in bed with Matt as we talk and laugh together at least matches anything I have ever felt when I've been with Martin. This is of course the great risk that a submissive husband who encourages his wife to have extramarital sex must accept that he is taking: that she may fall in love with another man - a superior man who can excite and pleasure her in ways that her husband cannot, and even worse, who is so obviously the right man for her. The pain is even greater when that same husband knows that if his wife ever decided to have a child, it would be her lover's and not his.
Such then is Martin's fate. He knows that I still care for him and I won't leave him, but equally he knows that the primary reason why I am still carrying his surname rather than Matt's is because I need to be married to a submissive cuckold. Martin may no longer sexually excite me, but he does exist to provide sexual excitement for me – to watch me dress, to clean my clothing and footwear, to witness and discuss my infidelity, and above all for me to abuse and humiliate. This is a subservient role that he has accepted willingly and in the end enthusiastically, but I doubt there are many men who would so easily submit to such emasculation. All the same, and even with full forewarning of this stark reality, there are still many of you out there who wouldn't hesitate to change places with my husband would you? If there were a button you could press to put you in Martin's shoes tomorrow you really wouldn't be able to resist... ahh, the power of sexual desire.
They say a picture paints a thousand words, and when I was taking some shots at home for the 'London Whore' post to show the outfit I wore with Gerald to the car showrooms, I got a capture that summed up the present status of my relationship with Martin better than several paragraphs of text could ever do. Martin had been taking some video of me, and at the end of such a session I give him free rein for twenty minutes or so to worship me as a reward for his efforts. During the period when he was filming I was goading him on, telling him how turned on I had become as the car salesmen eyed me up and how fabulous it felt that day to go out in public wearing a double dildo belt beneath a skirt that was so incredibly short. Martin had almost lost it by the time we finally mounted the camera on a tripod, and he started masturbating furiously when I finally gave him permission to play with me.
In the picture in question I'm standing in my bedroom looking down at Martin's prick as he vigorously wanks it, and it's the expression on my face that says everything, although unfortunately I can't show you this. I have a look that's a mixture of amusement and disdain, and it's clear that although I'm enjoying witnessing my husband obsessing over my leather miniskirt and stockinged legs, I'm not particularly aroused by the sight of him doing this. You have to bear in mind that I am now accustomed to having cocks in my mouth and pussy that are twice the size of Martin's manhood when girth is taken into account, and I'm amazed that at one time I actually considered my husband as being 'big' when he had a very powerful erection. Nevertheless, although it didn't happen that day I do often become highly stimulated at such moments but it's my domination desires that are ignited and I simply have to punish Martin's penis. I will either lock him into a thick leather chastity jock which allows me to whip his cock with my riding crop, or I will strap his dick to the special punishment table I use for all my submissives and spank his prick with a folded leather belt. In both cases I will usually dildo myself to climax in the process.
The other striking feature of this video capture is the height difference between us. I'm wearing my seven-inch heels, giving me an enormous artificial advantage, but even so you have to consider that when I'm with my alpha lovers this disparity isn't anything like as great, and in Matt's case it doesn't exist at all. You can argue all you like that such superficial considerations shouldn't really matter, but I can't change how I feel, and when I see pictures like this my overriding thought is that despite Martin being sort of cute and likeable, physically he's substandard and wholly mismatched as a partner for me.
There are several other shots from that video session that also serve to emphasise my indifference to my husband's attentions. At one point Martin unzipped my skirt and began to lick the rear of my leather panties, but it's clear that I'm more interested in the current state of my make-up than I am in my spouse's oral efforts, and when at the end of the session I brought Martin to ejaculation with a shoe-wank I was actually on the phone to Alison. I had called her at work and we were discussing plans for a shopping trip when Martin finally ejaculated, and the dialogue caught by the video camera reveals just how inconsequential such a moment is to me these days compared to a few years ago:
"Hang on a second Ali, he's just spraying over my shoes and stockings - can you hear him?... that's it, come on... come on... okay, now lick it all up... that's it. Sorry Ali, you were saying?..."
Personally I don't think a wannabe cuckold is able to properly conceptualise this state of affairs prior to the event. Sure, in his mind he fantasises that his wife degrades him in this way and he becomes sexually irrelevant to her, but in Martin's case I don't believe he ever really thought that this could happen between us. I might appear to be like this, but surely it would only ever be an act, some staged theatre that would end when we had both gained sexual release? But it isn't an act, and it doesn't end. It's oh-so-very real, and I think my husband is one of the lucky ones because he has not only come to terms with it but he genuinely gets off on it despite the hammering his ego takes. In that respect I must admit that I am also extremely lucky because my life would quickly become incredibly dull without him.
Another reason why I have less motivation to post these days is because I recognise that for a number of readers the diary has lost much of its early intimacy. I briefly discussed this back in 2008 in 'Publish And Be Damned?', noting that in the initial diary entries many readers could easily identify with my experiences and there were strong parallels between the development of my marriage and the sort of progression that other couples had been through, with the principal difference in my case being that guilt and doubt hadn't deterred me from cuckolding my husband.The characters at that time were much more strongly drawn than they are in later posts (simply because there were only a few men I was involved with) and much of the focus of my thoughts was on the developing emotional triangle between Martin, Matt and yours truly.
Even up until the point when I went offline in February 2007 I had only been seeing men other than Matt for a few months and similarly my changed relationship with Alison was still in its relatively early stages. However when I returned in March 2008 my life had altered utterly, and I was well aware that I was going to face problems both in documenting this dramatic transformation and in conveying just how sexually driven I had become. In the end I decided to handle the latter issue first and I put up the 'Just Another Day' post which I reasoned would be the best way to give readers an insight into my highly unusual but tremendously enjoyable new lifestyle.
The original 'Just Another Day' post (it's actually split into two parts, but I think of it as a single entry) is my personal favourite of all the Maria's Diary posts because I believe I very accurately captured my thought processes and enabled you to see the real me. It encapsulates my obsession with sex and the enjoyment I get from domination and cuckold humiliation, and also the enormous stimulation I receive from dressing to excite and exhibiting myself to men. The present heavily edited version of that post is a sorry substitute in my view, but the original caused me so many problems with unwanted attention that I felt I had to dampen its intensity. Unfortunately in doing so I took away much of its soul.
[Note: As of November 2014 I have restored the 'Just Another Day' post to its original form.]
The consuming devotion to sex that 'Just Another Day' documented obviously raised doubts over the credibility of my story. Could a woman seriously want to live like this and is such a lifestyle even manageable? This sort of questioning used to bother me but I realise now that it's pointless trying to address it and it's best to let people simply believe what they want to believe. I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to become a public figure, and since I value my privacy more than I do the stimulation I get from publishing my story, don't ever be surprised if this website is once again deleted without notice. Fortunately I think Maria's Diary works on more than one level, and the view I expressed in 'Feedback & Requests 1' still sums up as succinctly as I can how I believe the diary should be approached by readers:
"If it's causing you angst wondering whether I'm real, then do yourself a favour - assume this is all extravagant make-believe and just enjoy it for its own sake. And if you can't do that, then it's simple: stop torturing yourself and don't read my words."
If I could go back and write the diary again there isn't much I would want to change, although I wish the four special posts that I have now inserted into 2008 had appeared at that time rather than later. There is one significant alteration I would make however, and that would be to document in far greater detail the Saturday activities I used to enjoy on my own before I cuckolded Martin. I've mentioned these a few times in my posts, but I never really spelled out just how influential these solo sessions were in shaping my ambitions and how the lifestyle I lead today is in many senses simply a natural progression from the fantasies I developed over several years of playing alone like this. One reason I didn't dwell upon these in more depth when I started the diary is because I was simply embarrassed to talk about my actions - these were very private moments, and even my husband had been kept in the dark about many of the games I used to play. There was also the fear that readers would be incredulous that a woman could think and act in such a way.
For a long time these Saturday sessions became the highlight of my life, and on Fridays as I was driving home from work I would already be getting excited as I began to think about what I could get up to the following day. On the Saturday morning I would usually rise quite early and I would dress in the first outfit of the day for Martin's benefit, goading him with talk of how I was going to be enjoying lots of kinky sex. It was fun to taunt him like this, but I began to get irritated if he stayed around for too long and the feeling was always 'Thank God!' when his car was heading down the driveway. I was alone at last, and I could start to abuse myself.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about these masturbation sessions (I may as well call them that, because that's what they were) is how prolonged they were. It wasn't unusual for me to play these games for seven hours or more, and it was only the impending return home of my husband that ever really stopped me. Of course not all of this time alone was spent pleasuring myself, but the simple act of lacing myself into a tight leather corset or a pair of thigh length boots was wonderfully erotic and there was never any real let up in my focus (I wouldn't stop to have something to eat for example). It was sex, sex, relentless sex, and by any normal yardstick it was extremely bizarre sex.
I won't list here the different ways I would bring myself to orgasm, but the more pertinent aspect for this discussion is the fantasy web I would spin while playing such games. I've said before how I am able to project myself into these dreams and how they become very real to me, and it's probably true to say that the acting skills I use today were very much developed during this time. It's still somewhat embarrassing to reflect on the scenarios I would concoct, for two simple reasons: first, I would talk aloud as I acted out each imaginary scene and second, I would actually pause or even react as dialogue spoken by other parties was played out in my head. I only rarely videoed these moments because I knew they would look so weird, but to me it was magical to live out my sexual desires in this way.
In the second of the two history posts that start the diary I discussed how on Saturdays I began to look at the Bill Ward BDSM drawings that had always excited Martin, initially so I could try to gain some insight into male domination fantasies, and later because I was genuinely getting off on the imagery and accompanying stories. This material gradually shaped the leather-clad domina image I had of myself, especially the idealised thigh-booted, opera-gloved socialite whore. Ward's fantasy scenes encompassed almost every angle of fetish sex, and even predilections that at one time had left me cold and bemused began to excite me (feminisation and strapon punishment immediately come to mind). There was also one particular theme that in retrospect influenced me above all others: that of the powerful, sexy domina who likes to cruelly whip and humiliate weak men but who will willingly submit herself to the same treatment from handsome, big-cocked studs.
Despite my normal lack of self-consciousness I think I would struggle even today to recount these private moments alone. For example, I would lay three or four pillows over the edge of my bed and these would be my 'slaves'. Then I would walk around in my corset, boots and gloves with my riding crop in hand and I would verbally scold them before lashing out with my whip, hitting the pillows indiscriminately as hard as I could. I would also put on my dildo briefs and fuck my subs, which might sound sexy in words but I suspect I looked pretty silly as I knelt on the floor and aggressively rocked my body back and forth against an inanimate lump of stuffed polyester.
At the other extreme I would be fucked by lots of men (and I mean LOTS of men) and I don't think Martin ever fully appreciated the real reason I was building such a substantial collection of dildos and vibrators. When he came home he would see video of me being pleasured by one or two of my 'lovers' but he didn't see the episodes where I was lying on my bed with the covers stripped off and I had a dozen pricks or more surrounding me as I fantasised of being gang-banged in front of him. I would be remorselessly fucked in all three orifices as I writhed around on the bed, and when it was over there would only be a brief respite as I changed my outfit before the self-gratification started all over again when I went downstairs to watch the video playback on the lounge TV.
It wasn't enough to be screwed by three men at a time though. I wanted to wank others as they did me, and this is when I began experimenting with ways to hold cocks inside me so that my hands were free to play with more pricks. This led to the purchase of a number of dildo harnesses and I fell in love with the feeling of having pricks strapped into me, a delight that has never lost its attraction. I also learned how to chain a vibrator or rubber prick into my rear so that it could be pushed deep inside me but would hold securely when my body reflexively tried to evacuate it. Try it sometime - it's a sublime feeling.
Then there were the bondage and discipline games. I dreamed endlessly of being spanked by a man, and I used to smack myself as a substitute because I couldn't allow my lowly husband to perform this act on me. I also whipped myself when I had a leather skirt on, and again in my mind's eye this was being done to me by a tall, well-built, dominant man. I would spend an age experimenting with different ways of bondaging myself with an assortment of belts, chains and padlocked cuffs (although interestingly I've never been one for using rope) and in particular I liked to strap up my breasts and 'punish' my nipples by tethering them with long laces or attaching metal clamps to them. And of course there were the gags. Just what is it about having a gag in one's mouth that is so extraordinarily erotic?
It's only if you can appreciate how the frustration built in me after week upon week of playing these games, for hour upon hour, that you can understand why I was ultimately so determined to experience at least some of these fantasies for real. In the end it seemed ridiculous to me that I should be acting out these dreams. Why shouldn't I enjoy the reality? I mean really, why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I whip other men if I want to? Why shouldn't I be fucked by lots of guys if that's what I want? Why shouldn't I have two cocks in my mouth or two men sucking my breasts at the same time? If I want to have four pairs of hands up my skirt feeling my underwear and pleasuring me, why shouldn't I? If I go to a house party and I'm introduced to an attractive man who shows great interest in me, why shouldn't I go outside with him later and suck him, or go upstairs to one of the bedrooms, get on all fours and allow him to take me anally while I bait my husband on the phone? Come on, give me a good reason. Why shouldn't I?
One thing that occurred to me as I was writing this discussion is that the pictures in this post have only seen the light of day because they happened to illustrate points I was trying to make, and yet they are interesting in their own right. This is true of so many pictures I have taken over the years, shots that I think readers would be intrigued by but which haven't fitted the particular theme of my latest post. My offline diary contains many such images and one option for me would be to show some of this material to maintain interest in my website in the absence of new main posts (of course I could simply call it a day and allow my site to fall into obscurity, but I don't like the idea of my male readers gradually deserting me and focusing their thoughts on other online sluts/dominas). The main problem would be to decide which pictures to show and I would have to exercise plenty of self-restraint with my selections.
I have explained my philosophy regarding the pictures that accompany my posts on more than one occasion, but let me just reiterate that the principal purpose of the video captures has always been to supply the reader with a mental image of me and the outfits that I wear. Most of the photos are posing shots, usually in my bedroom, and the only reason I later put in some more varied imagery was to try to break the growing monotony of these scenes. The pictures have never been there to either validate my actions or to act as the primary focus of the posts. They are included merely as an enhancement and it's the text that should provide the true imagery via the imagination of the reader.
[Incidentally, it has been suggested to me that I should perhaps consider posting extracts from my offline diary. It's certainly true that this is much more of a genuine diary in the traditional sense than the chapter-like narratives that appear on this website, but I think it would require too much work to modify my daily journal to make it fit for public consumption. I would have to spend an inordinate amount of time changing dates, names and events to disguise my whereabouts and the people I am meeting, and it's difficult enough to keep my private diary up to date these days without this added burden. In any case, I very much worry that I would suddenly start changing the way I write up this daily record of my activities and it's vital to me that I continue to author this account of my life in an unrestrained stream-of-consciousness style.]
In the 'Hostess' post I explained how I had been using pictures to deliver the cuckolding experience to Martin, initially by email and phone, and later by incorporating shots I had taken during the day into my offline diary (including short video clips). Martin began reading about my adventures and looking at these photos in the evenings when he was at home, and this proved hugely stimulating for both of us. The pictures in my offline diary are extremely varied, but to appreciate the majority of the non-domination ones I think you have to be able to somehow empathise with the cuckold mind. For example, Martin receives far more pain from seeing a picture of me kissing another man than he ever would from a close-up shot of a prick penetrating my vagina, and it's only when you can see the Polaroid-style photos I showed at the beginning of 'Lights, Camera, Action!' through my husband's eyes that you can fully understand the power of such material and the inner conflict it generates.
This pattern hasn't changed over the past couple of years, and most evenings you will find Martin in front of his computer openly masturbating as he reads my offline journal and watches video of me. He will deliberately avoid climax so that he can prolong his enjoyment, and it's quite common for him to do this for two hours or more as he first studies my latest update and then later revisits earlier entries. As with the bedroom scene shown above, I have always enjoyed seeing Martin demean himself in this way and it's the primary reason why I don't hold my husband in chastity despite its undeniable appeal. Quite often nowadays when I'm out somewhere being fucked by another man the thought comes into my mind that my spouse is at that very moment likely at home fervently wanking his little cock as he looks at pictures and video of me, and it's this glorious contrast that makes my lifestyle seem so perfect - the cuckold husband reduced to playing alone with himself because that's the best he can get, while his ever hungry, always-in-demand wife takes yet another ejaculation inside her.
As an experiment I have decided to start showing a few pictures from my collection that haven't made it into my main posts, and you may have noticed that there is now a 'Gallery' link at the top of each page. This will lead you to an index section very similar to the 'Diary' one, and links to image entries will be added in due course. However I would like it to be clear that my underlying philosophy still holds regarding the imagery on my site: what I show will be designed to be suggestive and provocative without being overly explicit, and the intention as always will be to give you a window into my lifestyle while at the same time allowing me enough leeway to deny that many of the claims made in the diary are true. Things have gone too far now for me to laugh off the fact that I have sex with men outside my marriage – a number of people are currently aware of my relationship with Matt and on more than one occasion I have bumped into someone who knows me when I have been dressed to kill in the company of another man. However, common sense tells me that it's very much in my interests to maintain a certain level of deniability about my more extreme activities, particularly with respect to domination games and multi-partner sex. Therefore although I actually have little idea at the moment exactly what I'm going to put up, one thing I can assure you is that most photos will be blurred or artistically filtered as usual.
I do still have some unfulfilled ambitions that I'm hoping to achieve over the coming years, but I'm not actively pursuing these and it's more a case of hoping that I get lucky with circumstances. I don't seriously expect to realise most of them, but then again I thought that about a number of the long-held fantasies that I described in 'The Girl Who Loves Cream', and they have now all been signed off. I'll keep these latest ones to myself for now, but I'm sure if I do reach any of these milestones I won't be able to resist giving you the details. For the time being though I'm just going to continue enjoying what is a very comfortable, carefree existence and I hope you will understand why the main diary is likely to be dormant for long periods.
Could this even be the very last post this time? Nah, I've made that mistake too many times. I'm sure I'll be back.
|To contact me, email maria at this site|